The Proposal
by SapphireShelle91
Summary: Michael toyed with the small velvet box in the pocket of his beaten up blue hoodie. He had lost count of just how many times the box had come to be in his pocket, how many times it had remained there, for hours, before being returned to his desk drawer.


**Author's Note:** Well, this is a surprise. Seriously, no one could be more surprised to be back than me. I wasn't expecting to be writing/posting for the Princess Diaries fandom again and yet... here I am, again.  
Weird, almost feels like I haven't left. Well, that's nostalgia for you... and my nostalgia for the PD books has been biting at my heels to write something ever since I heard that Meg had written a new PD book (the same thing will happen when the new Mediator book comes close to coming on to our shelves, just you watch) and so I have... actually I've been writing a few pieces for the PD fandom in the last month or so (Yes, I know, I am way, way behind on the PD: Royal Wedding update. Well, better later than never, right?).  
Anyway, for those of you reading this and actually have some idea who I am and what I have written for the PD fandom over years, some many years ago, in regards to Mia's and Michael's lives as adults and being married and parents, this comes before all my original future fics, which are actually now past fics... if you think about... anyway, this is set before the birth of Mia and Michael's, in my PD time-line, first child (James) and before they are married (Which I will write my version of their wedding... eventually). My fics follow from the end of book 10, obviously, and will probably have no connection to any events that will occur in the new PD book, the Royal Wedding.

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I am not Meg Cabot and do not own the Princess Diaries, characters, setting, events, etc... I just like to borrow them every once and a while

* * *

 **The Proposal**

Michael toyed with the small velvet box in the pocket of his beaten up blue hoodie. He had lost count of just how many times the box had come to be in his pocket, how many times it had remained there, for hours, before being returned to his desk drawer. This wasn't because he had gotten cold feet or was still unsure about his decision.

No, he knew from the age of nineteen, if not earlier (though it was around his nineteenth birthday that he decided he needed to do something drastic to make sure he was worthy enough to actually be able to stand by his decision), exactly what he wanted and what he wanted was to be with her for the rest of his life. It was just… and even though this was what he wanted, had wanted for so many years; it just felt like now, now everything was adding up, building, pushing his hand, forcing him to take that next huge step in their lives all in a rush.

First with William's and Kate's wedding. Before and after the event, he knew the world was waiting, waiting for the next royal engagement, the next royal wedding. And of course they were looking at Harry and Prince Andrew's daughters, but they were also looking in his and Mia's direction too.

He had started feeling the pressure months before the wedding of Will and Kate but given how Mia seemed to be more or less ignorant to the stares of the world, he was able to push the pressure way and not think about it too often.

After the Royal Wedding it was much the same, Mia seemed oblivious to the waiting stares of the world and seemed to be in no rush to follow Will and Kate's footsteps down the aisle. She was content with the way things were between them, and besides she was only twenty-two, and as her mother said at the time, far too young to marry (she had been shooting him a pointed look over Mia's head, from where she was sitting on the floor of loft, playing with Rocky, as she spoke.).

He had hoped that things would calm down after that, and he would be able to ask Mia, in their own time, for their own reasons and not because half the world and a certain Dowager Princess were breathing down their neck.

But like most of the plans he set out in his head, this one unraveled, rather spectacularly. Not even a year had passed since the Royal Wedding and he found all eyes of world upon him and Mia again, this time because of a baby. Their baby. His and Mia's.

And so, of course, everyone wished for this child to be born within wedlock (even if it hadn't been conceived in it) and suddenly he found himself on a time limit. A nine month long time limit. Well, actually more like eight and half due to Mia being a month and a bit when she finally told him he was going to be a father. And this is why, he has decided, you should never, ever go on conferences that last longer than a week, at the most, because something spectacularly life-altering will happen and your girlfriend can't think how to tell you that's she pregnant over the phone or threw emails. Never, ever again.

Michael pulled the little velvet box out of his pocket and stared at it, leaning back in his computer chair, one arm tucked behind his head.

He was running out of time. His deadline, the baby's birth, which was set to be in the early weeks of January (Mia's doctor put the due date down as the 10th of January, five days after his own birthday), and October was just about to roll in. It wasn't that he hadn't tried to remedy the situation; he had. He had actually asked Mia to marry him, only… she said no, with a completely straight, no-nonsense face. And that answer had of course left him a little stumped, if not a little winded and his ego, once he had collected his scattered thoughts, was more than a little bruised.

"Don't give me that look," she had said after a long pause of awkward silence, looking at him with an expression far too calm and collected given what he had just asked her and her less than desired response.

"I just asked you to marry me," he grouched, arms crossed tightly against his chest, "and you said no."

She crossed her own arms, still looking completely unbothered by the situation and had replied calmly, "I know."

"Why?"

She stared at him for a long moment before pointing to her belly, which then, at fourth months, was only just beginning to become obvious.

"Exactly…" He growled, "The baby…" Mia shook her head.

"I don't want you to ask me to marry you because you feel you have to," she had interrupted him swiftly; "I want you to ask me to marry me, because you actually _want_ to ask me to marry you."

He had simply gaped back at her soundlessly for several moments.

"I want to marry you." He finally blurted out, causing her to grin and her eyes to light up.

"I know, and I want to marry you too." She pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him from speaking, stopping him from asking her again, "but on our terms. I don't want the reason for you to be asking me to marry you being because you feel obligated or felling like your being forced; because I'm pregnant and because half the world and Grandmere want to shove us down the aisle at the first sign of weakness. I want you to ask me to marry you because you, you want to, on your terms and at the moment you feel is right. Not because you feel that you're being pressured into it."

He had run a hand threw his hair, feeling both relieved and yet at the same time like an extra weight of stress and pressure had just been dumped onto his shoulders.

"That was the plan," he replied, trying to keep his tone light and betraying none of the stress he felt inside his chest, "originally, that was the plan. But… Mia, we… everyone wants us to marry before the baby's born, which is barely five months or so away and…"

"Don't care." Mia replied coolly, her expressed defiant, "still not saying yes."

"Why?"

"Well firstly, and not to sound completely materialistic here, but usually when couples ask one another to marry each other, there's a ring in sight. I don't really care about that, truly, but a ring usually helps with the whole popping the question thing. Secondly, and engagement ring asides, I would prefer you asking me, without the groaning and looking as if you're in pain," she waved her hand at him when he had tried to protest, "I know why," she insisted, her voice softening as she laid one hand upon his chest and the other came to lie upon his cheek, "and I'm sorry." She sighed heavily then, " And thirdly, I don't want you to ask me because you feel as if your hand is being forced, because of," she lowed her hand then, the one she had laid upon his chest, so that it fell upon her belly, "because of the baby. Like I said before, I want you to ask me because you want to, not because the whole world and Grandmere are telling that you should." She shrugged, "I'm happy to wait. Anyway, this is the modern day, lots of people have kids before they marry and no one cares, and if they do, barely anyone listens to them anymore. Us being married before the baby is born or after, won't affect or harm the baby in the slightest, because we love each other and we love the squirt," she grinned as she spoke the nickname of their unborn child. Even he had managed to muster a small smile, "being married or not married won't make a difference to that love. And if you're worried about the whole legitimacy thing, Dad and I have already worked that one out. In the new Act of Succession, whether we marry or not, all our kids will be in line for the throne of Genovia after me. All of them will be seen as legitimate heirs. We're also working on getting your last name tagged to the end of the kid's names, so…" she smiled reassuringly up at him and he had felt some of weight start to lift away. Not all of it, but a good chunk.

"Thanks." He had said his voice a little scratchy from emotion. She had cuddled herself close to him then, burying her head into his neck and his arms came to rest around her.

"Welcome." She had murmured against his throat before pulling away with a wry smile, "This doesn't mean you're off the hook forever, you know." She spoke in a firm tone, her eyes twinkling, "just for a little while. I am very much determined to be your wife before I turn thirty."

"That gives me about seven years to ask you." He had responded with an amused smirk.

"Or I could just ask you first." She laughed standing on tippy toes to kiss him. He had moved forward to deepen the kiss only for her to spring from his arms, smirking as she proclaimed she had a hankering for pancakes. He had stared at her in mild exasperation before giving in completely to her smile. Hand in hand they had wandered into their apartment kitchen and together wiped up a stack of pancakes. Michael had wisely kept his mouth shut in regards to what Mia cooked up to have alongside her pancakes (an array of garden vegetable. And yes, she did indeed eat them alongside her pancakes).

Neither of them had spoken about marriage after that. Mia never brought it up and he hadn't tried asking her again since. Not because he feared being rebuked (again… alright, so maybe he was a little. It had hurt him, more than a little to hear her say no when he asked her to marry him, even with all her reasons as to why she refused to. Reasons he understood and saw sense in, and he, in her shoes, would have made similar points. But even so, it had hurt, right to the core of his heart where that tiny ember still sat. The ember that had lived with him during the years of their separations, the hardest years of his life, and it had throbbed horribly when she had said no.) but because he was taking the time to access the whole matter from every angle, so that when he did ask her again, it was because of no other reason other than he wanted to. Not because he was feeling pressured from the world to at least get a ring on her finger before the baby was born. Not because of the baby or old world values where people must be married before having children. Because, ultimately, it was between the two of them, no one else, and he refused to ask her when he felt that other people, other reasons were still involved. Or at least, at the forefront of his reasons. Those reasons would always be involved, there was no escaping that, but they were not the main points, and should never be. This was between Mia and him and that was the way it was going to stay.

Still, the feeling that he had a deadline hurtling towards him with meteor like speed was still very much present in his mind. The baby was due in a little more than three months and he wanted himself and Mia to be at least engaged by the time of the little squirt's birth, if nothing else.

Well… here goes nothing.

He wasn't exactly nervous as he left his study and walked to the den where Mia was curled up on the couch, watching Star Wars, Fat Louis strapped like a massive rug over her lap while Pavlov slept at her feet, he was more in a state of surrealism, feeling not quite connected to his body. But he was determined. Though, he could already hear the wails of despair from Tina the moment Mia told her about this. This would fall utterly short of what Tina would believe a royal proposal should be, of any proposal really.

He stared at her dozing on the couch, his finger rolling the box in his pocket with almost practiced familiarity. Not only had the box practically lived in his pocket the past month or so, he had had it, and the ring inside of it, for years. Almost right from the first week of them getting back together after her eighteenth birthday and her graduating of high school, this ring had been his constant companion threw the long hours of him sitting in his study, staring hours upon hours at his computer screen, the box rolling back and forth between his fingers.

It was a tad presumptuous, maybe, buying the ring after they were only back together a week, but it had felt right, then, and the ring, as much as he hated to say it, even in his own head, had called to him. Just like the snowflake necklace had, two years before, for Mia fifteenth birthday.

It would be weird, Michael realized with a start, to no longer have the box, and the ring inside of it, in his pocket or in easy reach to toy with or simply hold. They, like the hoodie he currently wore, the one he had worn for years, through thick and thin, in New York and in Japan, from awkward teenage years to his mid-twenties, gave him a sense of comfort and security and he would be sorry to lose that. However, he would gladly do so in exchange for seeing the ring on Mia's finger for the rest of their lives.

He fingered the box some more, weighing up his options. He wasn't even sure why he felt that now was the right time; it just… felt like it.

He moved to crouch down by the couch, watching as she slowly stirred, her grey eyes glazed with sleep as she blinked sleepily at him

"Hi." She mumbled her voice a little husky from her dozing. Her hand reached out and came to rest upon his cheek. Without thought, he moved his head a little, so that his lips grazed the palm of her hand.

"What's wrong?" She asked after a moment, her voice becoming clearer as she started waking fully.

"Nothing." He smiled and held up the small, velvet box for her to see, the glossy black velvet shining softly in the dim light being cast from the flat screen. She blinked a couple of times as she stared at the box, almost going a little cross eyed from the result.

"Mia, will you…"

"Yes."

Despite everything, he couldn't help but roll his eyes in utter exasperation as he bumped his head lightly against the arm of the couch.

"You didn't even let me finish!" he grumbled at Mia, gazing at her with the same level of frustration that both their animals were currently shooting her as Mia squirmed to sit up on the couch, disrupting the comfort of both cat and dog alike.

"Why do you care?" she asked with huff, though her eyes were gleaming with excitement and her words were ever so slightly slurred due to how wide her smile was, "I'm saying yes and that's what counts right? And you get out of being all mushy. Win-win right?"

He, in response to her words, simply thumped his head against the arm of the couch again.

"Can I see it?" She was asking him eagerly as she took hold of his wrist, and tried to subtly pry the velvet box out of his hand.

"Well, if you had let me finish." It was easy to free his wrist from her grip, and easier still to hold the box out of her reach, being that, as she was six months pregnant, was less than inclined to try and tackle him for the box.

After a few futile snatches for the box, she ended up simply sitting above him on the couch, her grey eyes became impossibly wide and her lips pursed together into a sad little pout. With an overdramatic sigh and flourish of his wrist, he presented her with the box, popping it open so that she could see the ring, her ring. A ring he knew every detail of from years of simply staring at and wondering when he would be staring at her hand and seeing it seated proudly, for all to see, upon her left ring finger.

He turned on the small lamp on the side table, so that she too could see every detail of it, the way the diamond was not quite exactly white, but rather, that it possessed a soft almost silvery-grey gleam to it. It wasn't a very large diamond, nothing like the rock the Corn and Chili freak gave on her eighteenth birthday, but who wanted a ring like that? For one thing it was heavy enough to sink the Titanic!

It was a simple design, all up, her ring, nothing overly extravagant or over the top. Mia could wear it every day, doing anything, writing, signing papers, all manner of royal duties, riding her horse or playing with Rocky without having to worry about it becoming caught or tangled or even, worse of all, dropping clean off her finger and the diamond shattering or the ring simply becoming lost altogether.

She didn't go all mushy or start squealing like shown in movies, tv shows and in books (or like he imagined Tina would when Boris finally dropped the question. Which as soon as he found the absolutely most perfect ring ever in the whole wide world, he would), she simply smiled down at her ring, turning it this way and that, so as to see it from all angles, though she had yet to actually take it out of its box.

"Do I have to put it on myself?" She teased when she finally looked up from the ring to meet his eyes with a bright smile and radiant eyes.

"Cheeky," He responded warmly as he playfully bobbed her on the top of her head, before gently taking hold of her left hand in his, holding it firmly there (a tiny, irrational part of him was petrified she might try and escape or change her mind) as he took the ring from the box and slide it ( _finally_ ) home on her left ring finger.

They grinned widely at each other with unconditional love for who knows how long before Mia flung her arms around his neck (completely disrupting both cat and dog, both of whom whine loudly in protest before they muttered darkly to each as they curled up side by side at the end of the couch, watching their humans with exasperated eyes, huffing as they settled down to sleep once more. Both were too old for all their humans nonsense, no matter how much the two of them loved both their humans.) and kissed him enthusiastically on the mouth.

The box fell to the ground with a light thump.


End file.
